Much, Much More than a Moment
by Tina Century
Summary: Series written for MamoUsa Week 2019 on Tumblr. Small snapshots of Usagi and Mamoru's relationship based on provided prompts. Sometimes, there's the most to explore in the smallest points in time.
1. Day 1: Together

_Hello, everyone! For better or worse, I have jumped into writing for this year's MamoUsa Week on Tumblr. Honestly, this is a massive challenge, as I tend to be an absurdly slow perfectionist, but I'm hoping this makes me get better. I'm feeling ok about day 1 today, but it's gonna be a little touch and go from there. Hope you're willing to take the ride with me! Oh, and please let me know what you think? _

_This takes place right at the end of Episode 83, you know, the one where Demande kidnaps Usagi and they find out all the things about the future. Because if I'm gonna write something off-the cuff, it's gonna be in Sailor Moon R._

_A massive thanks to Kasienda for taking time out of her insanely busy life to beta this for me. Your edits help me so much!_

* * *

MamoUsa Week 2019  
Free Day: Together

* * *

_She was real. _

_She was safe. _

_She was with him. _

Tuxedo Mask gently ran his hands up and down Usagi's back, those words repeating in his head like a mantra, attempting to soothe them both.

His eyes scrunched shut tightly in rage as he made contact with unfamiliar, cheap-feeling satin and flimsy gossamer wings. He wrapped his cape around her shivering form, trying to both warm her and hide the vile dress and all it represented from view.

Fear and fury churned through him as he held her close. He couldn't rid his mind of Sailor Moon's terrified eyes, her desperately outstretched arm in the Crystal Palace bunker, Demande trying to force himself on her. Bile rose up in his throat as he thought of the Black Moon prince's eyes on her bare skin, of what could have happened had he arrived just seconds later.

There was so much he needed to say to her.

They had "reconciled" weeks ago, with soft, forgiving kisses on a crisp fall night, the Tokyo city lights sparkling behind them. But Mamoru had insisted, and Usagi had reluctantly agreed, that they still try to keep their distance from each other until he could find out more about his dreams.

They weren't always very good at living up to that agreement.

There had been reassertions of love in battle, hand-holding under the table at senshi meetings, and stolen kisses in the back room of the Crown Arcade. But all the while, Mamoru hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was still putting her in danger. He had still held back.

And for what? To try to prevent his recurring nightmare of the woman he loved in danger, standing in a tattered dress surrounding by a ruined city, from coming true?

Everything he had done to protect her—all the torture he had put them both through—had been in vain.

His gloved hands gripped her hips and he pulled her closer to him tightly, whispering in her ear in the falling snow.

"Usako," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." The words tumbled out of his mouth in a near-incoherent heap: frantic apologies for not being able to protect her, for causing her pain, promises to always protect her in the future.

He reveled in the feel of her solid form in his arms, trying to anchor himself to the reality that she was ok.

_She was real._

_She was safe._

_She was with him. _

And their future? He was ashamed to admit that the first thing he had felt upon learning about their future was joy.

For a brief moment, he didn't care that the city around them was broken, didn't care about the Black Moon clan. He and Usagi were together in the future. His heart had soared when his future self had uttered the words "my wife", referring to his Usako. And it had nearly burst with happiness when they had learned that Chibiusa, that precocious child he'd become so inexplicably attached to, was their daughter.

He'd even instantly forgiven King Endymion for sending the dreams. Mamoru understood better than anyone that it had been well-intentioned, though inexplicable and poorly executed.

But now, standing in the frozen wasteland their future city had become, and having borne witness to the kind of damage their enemy could inflict upon them, he was flung firmly into the present and all the dangers that came with it.

"Tuxedo Mask," Usagi breathed. She was uncharacteristically quiet, her muscles tense beneath his hands.

He gently pulled his head away to face her. "King Endymion said our real test begins now." He swallowed, the anxiety slithering up his spine at the implications of the King's words.

Usagi nodded, her brow furrowed, her lips set in a firm, determined line. "No matter what happens, we're…" she trailed off.

He ached to be able to finish the sentence for her.

_We're going to be ok._

_We're going to get through this. _

_We're going to be with each other forever. _

But as usual, his emotions bubbled up in him behind a dam that wouldn't let the words come out.

If he couldn't tell her, he could show her.

He pulled her closer to him as the snow began to fall harder, cocooning her shivering body between his arms and his cape. She sighed into his embrace as he tenderly brushed a drop of snow off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Snowflakes dotted her lips, and he leaned down to melt them away with his own. Her lips were cold and trembling beneath his, and she whimpered as the tip of his tongue skimmed across her skin, erasing each drop of snow. He eased his tongue between her lips, coaxing them open and pouring his emotions into the kiss.

He needed to feel her, needed to know that she was real and ok, that she was really safe in his embrace, needed her to know that he would always be there, that she could always count on him to protect her.

The adrenaline that had been pumping through his system ever since she had been taken from him channeled itself into passion, and he moaned against her mouth as he increased the pressure on her lips.

Usually, Usagi kissed him with no restraint, tangling her tongue with his, fisting her hands in his hair, letting out little mewls of pleasure as she pressed herself up against his form.

But something was off.

Tuxedo Mask pulled away, his breath forming little puffs in the cold air. "Usako?"

"Mamo-chan," Usagi whispered. "He almost…someone other than you almost…"

She didn't have to finish her sentence.

He tenderly brought his hands to cup her cheeks, his fingers moving in calming strokes in the hair at her temple. He tried to convey comfort and reassurance through his gaze, wanting to help her forget the horror she had just been through, to promise her that she was safe now. He was there, and would always be there.

Her eyes flickered to the cut on his forehead from the glass wall he'd torn through to rescue her, and tears welled up in her eyes as she followed the trail of dried blood down to his chin.

"You're hurt."

He shook his head.

"It's nothing."

Her tears began to fall freely then, and she stood on her tiptoes to reach up to recapture his lips with hers. She took the lead this time, and he was happy to follow. The kiss started off gentle, with Usagi softly slipping her lips against his, the salty taste of her tears mixing with the frigid snow that continued to fall.

It then grew into something deeper. Mamoru let out a guttural groan as Usagi pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and plunged her tongue into his mouth. She pulled him closer to her as she explored him, her hands running unchecked across his body. She was frantic, clinging to him with her lips, her tongue, her arms.

Mamoru rode the wave of Usagi's raw need and sighed into her embrace. He knew there was an intense battle to come. But for now?

_This was real. _

_They were safe. _

_They were together._

* * *

_There we go! I hope you enjoyed it, and for real, please tell me your thoughts (because yeah, external validation is absolutely part of what's gonna get me through this week). _

_Also, I have to throw out a couple more thank you's - to FloraOne, for her constant encouragement and helping me figure out how to properly write a kiss scene. To UglyGreenJacket, for her general input and specific suggestion for Mamoru to be physically cut here, and the QueenRisa, for encouragement and listening to my nonsense. _

_And of course, AGAIN, thanks to Kasienda! _


	2. Day 2: Item

_Hi everyone! First, thanks to everyone who left such sweet reviews yesterday. Really, I love hearing your thoughts, so THANK YOU. Also, apparently Day 1 was formatted in all italics on some browsers. It was working fine on the app and Chrome, so, who knows what was up. Today we don't start with italics, so that hopefully solves that._

_The prompt for today is technically Memory, but I don't have that ready yet, so instead, here is what is technically Day 3: Item. Sorry to be a rulebreaker :). This one takes place in and around Episode 91, you know, the one with all the cats and the old house and Usagi not being able to transform._

_Special thanks to FloraOne for the last minute beta! Also, special congrats to FloraOne for being an absolute academic badass and crushing her thesis defense. Go congratulate our fairy godmother, guys :). _

* * *

MamoUsa Week Day 2 (Really Day 3)  
Item

* * *

It might have bothered another man.

The sheer magnitude of Usagi's power—that extraordinary, dazzling power that could destroy youma in the blink of an eye and heal even the most hardened of hearts—might have made another man feel threatened and inferior.

But it didn't bother Mamoru.

In fact, he rather enjoyed being in near-constant awe of the what the woman he loved could do. It was part of what drew him to her. There was no one more suited to wielding that power than Usagi, with her selflessness and enthusiasm and all-around _goodness_, and Mamoru was more than happy to be there as her rock and support.

He didn't want that kind of power.

Until it came to protecting her.

When she had called and asked to meet him in the park that morning, he hadn't had anything helpful to say. She couldn't transform, and that _terrified _him. Because he knew her, and he knew that not being able to transform wasn't going to stop her from trying to fight.

And he knew that they couldn't win without Sailor Moon.

But since he was shit with comforting words, and didn't want to show her his fears, he had instead lightened his tone and grabbed her hand and taken her to that old abandoned house with all the cats, hoping their squeaky meows and playful purrs and soft fur would distract her.

It certainly wasn't a solution, but at least it had cheered her up for the moment.

His jaw tense with worry, Mamoru reached into his pocket for his phone as he approached his apartment building, scrolling through his texts until he found Minako's number.

_We need to talk about Usagi. _

It had taken a while for the two of them to get to this point of freely being able to text each other. In their past lives, Venus had been exceedingly protective of Princess Serenity, and somewhat apprehensive about Prince Endymion. That apprehension had transferred to Minako's treatment of Mamoru, and she had kept him at arm's length as a result.

For his part, Mamoru had never been good at making friends, especially with people he thought he had nothing in common with, so he had kept his distance in return.

But now, countless senshi meetings and battles later, they had developed a mutual respect for each other. As leader of the senshi and Usagi's sworn protector, respectively, they both felt a special responsibility toward her.

His phone buzzed immediately with Minako's response.

_I know. We're with her now. She's trying to get us all to adopt some cats. Props to you on finding her a project to distract her with. Anyway, I'll come by later tonight and we can figure out a plan. _

_Ok. _

Mamoru slipped his phone back into his pocket, pulling out his keys at the same time.

Then, the pain came.

It wasn't the faint tingle at the base of his spine that normally signaled Sailor Moon's transformation.

Instead, it rivaled what Mamoru had felt in his earliest days as Tuxedo Mask—a sharp, all-encompassing spasm that gnawed at his skull and nearly brought him to his knees in his apartment hallway.

Sailor Moon was in trouble.

No, _Usagi_ was in trouble.

The realization made his stomach flip in terror, and he couldn't help the strangled cry that flew from his mouth as he clawed at the lock with his key, hands shaking, and wrenched his door open.

He threw down his bag down in the genkan at the same time he pulled a rose from thin air, and within seconds, Tuxedo Mask had launched himself from Mamoru Chiba's balcony to the roof of the building next door.

* * *

Tuxedo Mask didn't have time to think.

He immediately hurled a rose at the cat-like youma that had its tail twisted around Usagi's neck, letting out a whoosh of relief as the youma's tail exploded into pieces and Usagi gratefully gulped for air.

His heart pounded in his ears as he jumped down from the window to Usagi's side, dimly registering that the rest of the senshi were injured and out of commission.

It was up to him.

It was up to him and his stupid flowers and campy speeches to defeat one of the most powerful youma they had ever faced.

His eyes moved to Usagi.

A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his face, plastering his hair to his forehead. She was still frightened, he could tell, but her eyes told him something else. She was relieved.

She thought he could do this.

Mamoru had never wanted Sailor Moon's power before.

But he wanted it now.

The youma lunged in their direction, and Mamoru moved as if on autopilot, blood pumping furiously through his veins.

_Protect her. _

He threw his cane out and grunted as it made contact with the youma, lodging into her stomach and pinning her against the wall. She stood immobilized, and, for a brief moment, Mamoru thought he had actually succeeded.

But he knew it couldn't be that easy.

He watched in horror as the cat-like creature licked her lips and split his weapon into pieces with a loud crack that echoed throughout the old house. She flung it across the tiles as if it were a toy and charged toward them again.

Usagi cried out behind him.

_Protect her. _

Mamoru hissed in pain as the youma's claws slashed through his cape and pierced his back. His hat and mask had fallen off underneath the impact, and his eyes flew to Usagi, scanning her for injuries and finding none.

_She's ok. _

_Protect her. _

"Run, Usako!" he pleaded, his voice faltering, blood beginning to soak through his crisp white shirt. He conjured another rose and positioned it between his fingertips before taking aim. If he couldn't defeat this monster, he could at least distract it until Usagi was safe.

But she she knelt down next to him, her hand clutching his thigh as he trembled and gasped at the searing pain in his back, his eyes still focused on their opponent.

"I can't do that!"

"Hurry," he bit out. "Run."

"No! I want to protect everyone…" her voice cracked, eyes shimmering with tears. "And that includes you…Mamo-chan. I'm going to fight together with everyone!" She desperately grasped his gloved hand in both of hers.

This girl. This _beautiful_, _selfless_, _infuriating_ girl.

She wasn't going to leave.

_I can't protect her. _

The thought destroyed him. After everything they had been through, all the sacrifices she had made, this was where it was going to end. With him failing her.

A choked sob escaped his lips.

But then, she squeezed his hands in hers and he met her gaze. _Trust me_, it said. _Trust us. _

And he did.

His face wet with tears, he concentrated on the overwhelming love he felt for the girl in front of him. The curious, giggling, irresistible princess who had absconded to his home so many centuries ago and escaped with his heart. The loud, ebullient, enthusiastic schoolgirl who he couldn't help but tease to the point of righteous indignation just so she would plant all her attention on him. The courageous, selfless, softhearted warrior who consistently took his breath away with each battle she fought.

His eyes fluttering shut, Mamoru tried to channel all the power he wasn't even sure he had into the hands that gripped his. He concentrated on the bits of faint magic he felt whenever he transformed into Tuxedo Mask, whenever he conjured a rose out of nowhere or inexplicably knew exactly where to find Sailor Moon. He could almost see it, little slivers of gold that fizzed and crackled with electricity and ran through his bones and into his fingertips, intertwining with the slivers of bright silver that shot forth from hers.

And then, all at once, a dazzling light burst forth from their clasped hands.

* * *

"Mamo-chan." Sailor Moon's tone was hushed as she held out the newly-formed Spiral Heart Moon Rod to him. The rest of the senshi had politely excused themselves, telling Usagi they'd meet her outside later, leaving the two of them alone.

Tuxedo Mask gingerly lifted the offered item in his gloved hand and stared at it in awe. He had never held one of her weapons before, never feeling like it was his place to.

_Formed from their combined powers_.

In one instant of unconditional trust, their powers, _together_, their love, had created a new tool for Sailor Moon to wield. Had breathed new life into the ginzuishou.

"We made this," he whispered, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

She nodded, a slow smile forming on her face. "We did."

He hadn't failed her. He had helped her win.

And that was all he ever wanted to do.

* * *

_Another day done! And, a few more thank yous: to Kasienda, who, even though we agreed that neither of us would be able to beta for each other this week, has still been so supportive and reassuring and all-around awesome. And to QueenRisa and UglyGreenJacket, for similarly encouraging me this week!_

_Also, there is a ton of great fic being pumped out this week, i.e. fanfic Christmas. Go check it out on Tumblr under MamoUsaWeek 2019 and show everyone some love! _


	3. Day 3: Memory

_Welcome to Day 3! This is technically yesterday's prompt (Memory), but I switched it with Item because I was still trying to polish this one up. This is also I guess the first one that isn't actually taking place within an episode, so that's kind of cool._

_Also, fair warning that this is a real ride on the angst bus. All aboard!_

_Thank you to FloraOne for enthusiastically beta-ing this and encouraging me! Honestly, I was super unsure of this one, so your help meant a lot, friend! 3_

_Please let me know what you think?_

* * *

MamoUsa Week 2019  
Day 3 (Really Day 2)  
Memory

* * *

For most of his life, Mamoru hated not remembering.

He hated not remembering his parents and the car crash that killed them. He hated not remembering his childhood.

He hated when his mind would desperately reach out for a string of anything that might help him fill the impenetrable gaps in his past and come up empty-handed, leaving a blank and empty canvas where his memories were supposed to be.

He hated not remembering.

Until he started having the dreams that made him long to forget.

The day Sailor Moon had cleansed the Makai tree, a flood of memories had come back to him.

He remembered stolen kisses with Princess Serenity in dark stone corridors, both breathless from the rush of forbidden love. He remembered fighting alongside Sailor Moon, his heart in his throat every time she put herself in danger. And most vividly, he remembered bickering with Usagi Tsukino in the streets of Juban, her pigtails blowing in the breeze, his stubborn self unable to admit that he had become addicted to their daily run-ins.

But his memories of his time as a Dark Kingdom pawn were blurry-vague snatches of battling against the senshi, bitter arguments with Kunzite, and most of all, an overarching feeling of emptiness.

That day, when Mamoru had regained his memories, he and Usagi had spent hours wrapped in each other's arms on his couch, discussing everything that had happened in both the distant and the more recent past.

He had asked her then. He wanted to know what it had been like when they weren't on the same side.

A fleeting, pained look crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced with a bright smile. "Mamo-chan!" she'd exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter now. It's over, and we can finally be together!" He had planned to talk to her about it again, but then those ominous dreams had started, and he'd been forced to push her away. Now, they'd finally defeated the Black Moon clan. They'd said goodbye to Chibusa that morning, and Mamoru was looking forward to the first restful sleep he'd had in weeks.

But that night, his visions of a false future were replaced with something else that made those dreams pale in comparison. It was as if his brain decided it was time for him to see a slow-motion horror show, every disgusting detail magnified to the nth degree. The Dark Kingdom's chilled air on his skin. Queen Beryl's cackling laughter echoing throughout her throne room. Mamoru didn't realize someone could actually feel soulless. But he did. He felt the emptiness in him, that zombie-like state that made him ready for Beryl's next command, ready for her to control him like a marionette doll, pulling his strings to do whatever she pleased.

His lips curled into a cruel, sadistic smirk.

His arms raised his sword above his head, teeth bared as he snarled.

And then it got so much worse.

Sailor Moon's agonized screams as vines squeezed her body and electricity shot from black roses that pierced her skin. His roses.

The sickening smack of a steel-toed boot making contact with her stomach. His boot.

Her choked gasps as strong hands tightened around her throat, lifting her up and cutting off her air supply. His hands.

She was going to die.

He was going to kill her. Mamoru shot up in bed, bile rising in his throat. He barely made it to the bathroom, where he retched violently, trembling and gasping for breath.

The dream that he knew was reality was seared into his brain. The burn marks on Usagi's skin she'd suffered at his hand. Her pleading him to stop, begging him to remember himself.

Her strength. His weakness.

Suddenly, the tingling feeling that signaled Sailor Moon was in trouble crept up the base of his spine. Inhaling sharply, Mamoru produced a red rose from thin air, and in one swift movement, Tuxedo Mask ran toward his balcony and jumped to the adjacent building.

His heart pounded fiercely in his ears as he leapt from building to building, concentrating on the link that drew him to Usagi to lead him, as it always did. He could feel her fear like it was his own, so he was surprised when he found himself in front of the Tsukino home, quiet and dark and bathed in moonlight, no sign of battle in sight.

The feeling that something was wrong still gnawed at him, and he hoisted himself up the tree that stood outside Usagi's room. He was about to climb to the branch that crept closer toward her window when he stopped, still hidden by the tree's inner branches and leaves, the image in front of him threatening to split his heart in two.

Usagi, clad in her pink bunny-print pajamas, was curled up in a fetal position in her bed, the moonlight reflecting off her comforter and casting the room in a purple-ish glow. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, she trembled as her lips moved incoherently, her face streaked with tears.

He knew immediately.

He, if anyone, knew what it was like to be tormented by nightmares. It wasn't the first time they'd shared a dream over their mental link. But those, as terrifying as they had been, hadn't been real. Now, he had seen in crystal clarity the hell Usagi had been through and how it still tormented her. He then realized that the feelings he had felt — her being in danger, her fear—were because she was remembering him. Remembering what he had done. It felt like being punched in the stomach.

He had run all the way here to save her…from himself. His throat constricted, and a familiar moisture welled up in the corner of his eye. He buried his head in his hands. He wanted nothing more than to sneak through her bedroom window, apologize for all the pain he'd caused, to comfort her, but he held back.

And he would keep holding back. It would come out every time he pushed her away, every time he kept her at arm's length or didn't tell her how much he loved her.

He wasn't good for her.

How could he be?

* * *

_Oof. I promise I have some happier things in store for later in the week? Anyway, it always bothered me that this isn't really addressed in canon, so, here you go.  
Reviews are love!  
_  
_Also, shoutout to everyone who is participating in this week! I love seeing both new and seasoned writers pour into my inbox and Tumblr feed with an onslaught of amazing fic. We're doing great, everybody! Go check the others out and cheer them on! _

_One more thing! Feel free to give me a shout on Tumblr TinaCentury. I'm always up for a chat!  
_


	4. Day 4: AU

_Hello, lovelies! So, if you follow me on Tumblr, you may have seen a post about how I'm slowing down a bit for this week. I'm still intending to finish; it's just not all going to happen this week due to vacation, academia, work-life balance, etc._

_Up today: AU! This is a real tonal shift from the other day's ride on the angst bus, so, enjoy!_

_Also, lots of lots of thanks to FloraOne for the beta! Oh, and also, massive thanks to Sailor Moon Turtle for arranging this whole week! _

* * *

MamoUsa Week 2019  
Day 4  
AU

* * *

It was just a flu shot.

A quick, easy flu shot. Chiba Mamoru scanned Harvard's student healthcare center waiting room, trying to distract himself from the gnawing anxiety in his gut. He hated shots.

The entire setup of the place was completely foreign to him. It was far too...open. About everything. There were posters on the wall describing the ins and outs of various STDs. There were bright purple and red medicine sample packs with "GET FAST UTI PAIN RELIEF" boldly emblazoned on them.

And then there were the condoms. Heaps and heaps of condoms.

When Mamoru first arrived at the healthcare center, he'd placed his hand in a bowl filled with colorful wrappers, expecting to extract one of those nondescript doctor's office hard candies. Instead, he'd flushed crimson when found a lime green condom 2-pack between his fingers, and thrown them back in the bowl as if he'd been scalded.

So many condoms. There was that bowl of them on the table in the waiting room. A basket of them by the front door. Plastic trays of them on every shelf or table.

He guessed everyone at Harvard was having a lot of sex.

It was his own fault he was here. He'd been avoiding getting the shot for weeks, and, at this point, the hospital he was doing his first clinical rotation at only had enough dosages left for high-risk patients. He needed the shot before they'd let him start tomorrow, and the student healthcare center still had plenty left.

Three years ago, Mamoru had decided to leave Japan for Harvard Medical School. And while he sometimes missed the trappings of home, he didn't really have anyone there to miss.

He hadn't looked back.

"Chiba?" a voice called from the hallway at the front of the room. Mamoru tore his gaze from the poster on the wall that described chlamydia in excruciating detail to the chipper blonde in front of him, a hot blush rising in his cheeks.

Blue clashed with blue as he stood, a not-wholly unfamiliar feeling fluttering through his stomach and shooting straight to his groin.

_Christ, Chiba. One handful of condoms and you're immediately attracted to the next woman you see. _

He swallowed, his mouth dry as he took in the twin streamers of hair that fell almost to her feet, the slight upturn of her nose, the curve of her hips.

"Mamoru Chiba?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Follow me."

Mamoru followed the woman down a short hallway into an examination room, the roll of paper on the exam table making that awkward crinkling sound as he sat, the bottoms of his feet grazing the floor.

He examined her further as she sat on a red stool and rolled over to him, bending down to make a note on her clipboard. Her scrubs were light pink, and the stethoscope that hung around her neck was covered in hot pink fabric adorned with tiny, smiling rabbits.

She looked up at him, and he could have sworn she faltered for a second, her eyes resting just a little bit too long on his left bicep.

Her eyes flew back down to her clipboard, cheeks pink, then suddenly exclaimed at a less-than appropriate decibel level as she read something on the paper in front of her.

"Tokyo! I'm from Tokyo!"

It took Mamoru a second to realize she was suddenly speaking Japanese, and quickly.

It was like the floodgates had opened. She chattered away about how terrible the Japanese food in Cambridge was, and how she'd literally give her left arm for the best meat buns in the world from the conbini down the street from her high school.

"And, I mean, I guess it's ok here," she continued. "The milkshakes are good. And have you had those cookies you can get delivered at three in the morning? Those are amazing! But," she looked around furtively before lowering her voice. "Don't you think Americans can be kind of weird?"

Mamoru chuckled and couldn't help but nod in agreement before he noticed that she seemed a little...scattered. He watched, frowning, as she used her foot to press off the floor and send her stool flying to the wall of cabinets and drawers across the room.

Did he just see her elbow slam into the counter?

Was that a wince?

She twisted every which way on her stool, rolling drawers and pulling out supplies seemingly at random. Brow furrowed, she muttered to herself. "Ok...thermometer...cotton swabs...needle….blood pressure cuff...alcohol wipes...AGH!"

Mamoru jumped at her yelp of pain.

She had rolled back to the exam table, arms laden with a pile of supplies, but one of her impossibly long pigtails had gotten stuck in a drawer's wheels. She glowered at the offending hair before giving it a firm yank that succeeded in bringing it back to hang at her side.

"Anyway," she continued as if nothing had happened, barely stopping to take a breath in between words. "It's my friend Ami's fault that I'm here. She's a genius-goes to MIT. I didn't know what to do after high school, so I came to visit her and just never left?"

She dumped the pile of supplies on the shiny silver medical instrument stand next to the exam table. It tipped over with a loud crash and she immediately dove after it, grasping for everything that fell and coming up with only the black blood pressure cuff precariously dangling from her finger.

She looked up and smiled apologetically at him. "Oops."

He probably should have walked out, questioning the quality of Harvard's student healthcare and whether this was really the place he wanted to attend medical school at afterall as he was.

But there was something about those clear blue eyes staring up at him.

She began to collect the items that had fallen, arranging them more carefully on the stand this time. "So eventually I needed a job. And Ami tried and tried to talk to me about what I wanted to do and I just didn't know but I do like to help people, you know? So of course she found this medical assistant program at Bay State and OF COURSE she said it wouldn't be bad since it was only a year but Ami is crazy and loves school and I think it's the worst but I listened to her anyway and I scraped through and now here I am but honestly I'm not sure it's for me."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "You don't say?"

He could feel that his expression had slipped into what his friend Motoki endearingly referred to as his jackass look. He tried to straighten the muscles in his face into a more neutral countenance, but it was too late.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He tried to backtrack. "It just...doesn't seem like you, uh, like this very much...you might be better off working somewhere where you, uh, couldn't hurt people...like behind a desk."

He never had been good with words.

She crossed her arms over her chest and indignantly huffed, "You're awfully rude for a grown man who's afraid of a flu shot."

What the hell?

She smirked knowingly at him before plopping back down on her stool and reclaiming her clipboard. "I'm good at reading people. So, let's get this over with before Hurricane Usagi puts you in any more danger."

Usagi. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. It was cute. It suited her.

But he couldn't help but notice her slightly dejected tone. He really could be such a jerk sometimes.

"Birthday?" Her question interrupted his thoughts. She was a little bit more detached now, her earlier enthusiasm having dissipated.

"August 3rd."

She scribbled on her clipboard, the only sounds in the room her pen scratching against the paper and the dim him of the fluorescent lights above.

"Occupation?"

"Medical student."

Her eyebrows shot up quizzically. Mamoru was used to that reaction on the opposite end of things, when classmates and colleagues discovered his fear of needles.

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Drink?"

"Occasionally."

"Have you been sexually active in the last year?"

A hot blush bloomed on Mamoru's face, traveling to the tips of his ears. God, he hated this question.

"Um...No."

At that, her head shot up, a momentary flash of surprise in her eyes. But she quickly regained her composure and continued, setting her clipboard aside before she stood and reached for the vial on the exam table.

Mamoru's stomach twisted, and he couldn't help but turn his head away. "I don't like to see the needle," he offered sheepishly.

"That's ok." Her tone was soft. Calming. "You'll be all right."

Mamoru's body jerked involuntarily, partially reacting to the cold alcohol wipe that was suddenly rubbing his upper arm, but more so to the delicate, calming touch that moved in soothing circles across his skin. He couldn't see her with his head turned as it was, but he couldn't help but take a deep breath of the pleasant vanilla smell that now surrounded him.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah," he bit out, gritting his teeth.

"Okay. One, two-"

And on the count of two, Mamoru was surprised to feel nails dig into his arm in a somehow gentle pinch. "What the?" Then a brief, sharp, pain, and it was over. He whirled his head back to see her bent over his arm, holding a piece of gauze to his skin.

She grinned up at him. "My mom used to do that when I was little. Distract me with a little pinch right before the needle went in." She shrugged. "Weird, but it works."

And it had. It had taken him out of his own head at just the split second he needed to be, and the shot really hadn't been so bad.

"You're all set, Chiba-san", she murmured, pressing a band-aid to his arm, a faint smile on her face. "Good luck in medical school."

She moved to usher him out of the room, and he panicked. He didn't want to walk out and never see this fascinating tornado of a girl with the strange hairstyle and personality that could go from enthusiastic to angry to dejected to tender in the course of a few minutes again. He needed to know her, to learn everything about all her different facets. To talk to her about Tokyo. To have warm cookies with her at three in the morning.

"Mamoru," he blurted out, jumping to his feet from the exam table.

Her brows knit in confusion as she turned, hand resting on the closed door's silver knob.

"Call me Mamoru. And, I'm really, really sorry for insulting you. You were great. Really" He took a deep breath before the words came tumbling out. "I know I can be kind of an ass. I'm just...not great with people. I'm quiet and sarcastic and kind of boring-my ideal night involves half a glass of sake and a really good book. I've been told I have terrible fashion sense. But…"

His gaze flew flew from the drab gray wall to her wide, blue eyes, hand tangled in his inky hair.

"Hurricane Usagi, was it? Would you like to have dinner with me?"

* * *

_AU is weird for me to write and I'm not sure I succeeded at it. Hope you enjoyed (tell me if you did?) I'll be back with First Kiss soon! _


	5. Day 5: First Kiss

So over a year ago, I said I'd be back soon with First Kiss. Soon is apparently a relative term, but I got a little carried away, and it's now been posted as a standalone story called 5 Years. Enjoy!


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